Smile Like You Mean It
by The Penned Tekrid
Summary: This tragic tale follows in the footsteps of Dis, the daughter of Thrain the Second as she loses each and every Dwarf that ever mattered to her. Lessons are learned on her journey- lessons of grief, of love, of friendship... but in the end, nothing matters with them gone. Dis x O.C., slight Thorin x O.C. later on. No incest.
1. Why Do I Keep Counting?

This is by no means a happy story. There's love, but this Fanfiction is here to give people a taste of reality. Life in Middle Earth isn't all feasting and glory.

Not my first FF, but the first one in a while. I was a little sad that Tolkien never really gave Dis her own story, so I figured I should.

I, by no means, own anything created by Tolkien, whether it be characters, world or names.

I do, whoever, own the characters of Uta, Jutta, Airili, Liadan, or any other character that doesn't appear in The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any movies under those names. Thank you.

~T.P.T.

* * *

**Smile Like You Mean It**

The Tragic Tale of Dis

Chapter One;; _Why Do I Keep Counting?_

My will to live wavered. I could feel every fiber of my body sigh in acceptance.

I was ready to die.

Nothing anchored me to the physical world any longer. No friends, no family, no children, no love. I wasn't only ready to die, but I wanted to.

My life felt like a blur of sadness and grief. Happiness was a rarity for me. My only happiness, the fruits of my body, my sons, lay stone cold and lifeless under the mountain they sought out so greedily with their uncle. Thorin... my dearest brother. The first born of my father and mother, Prince under the Lonely Mountain. He too, was gone.

It dawned on me then that I was now heir to the throne. Not that it mattered, however. There were no single ruling Queens- at least there had never been before, and I don't believe any of the Dwarf race wished for me to rule... And I didn't have a husband anymore. But I didn't _want_ to rule. Anyone I could have kept safe with that power was already dead.

Cold tears dripped from my bearded chin. My heart ached. I could feel my time closing to an end.

Perhaps if I had never been born the ones I loved would have been spared.

I laughed bitterly as I wiped the tears from my cheeks with an embroidered sleeve. Childish thoughts like that would get me no where.

Before I could stop myself, my laugh became a choke. I hung my head in shame, clawing at the place above my heart.

Silly girls always read foolish books that involved heart break, and as that girl I would laugh and say there was no such thing. I was wrong beyond belief.

I could feel my heart breaking under my clenched fingers. Breathing became difficult. Tears rushed from my eyes and I was unable to stop them.

Me, a princess of royal blood, unable to stop tears. I was taught to be emotionless, controlling, everything a princess should be, whether she took the throne one day or not. I could care less.

In my distress, I fell out of my chair and to my knees, my white and blue dress cushioning my knees slightly.

I wanted them back. What I wouldn't give to get them all back. I would suffer a thousand deaths for each just to bring them back. I was nothing in the world. I was a Dwarf woman, alone and unloved. They... they ruled. They led their people to victory on countless occasions. My sons, my husband, my brothers, my sister-in-law, my father, my mother, my grandfather. They deserved life, not I.

Not I.

* * *

_Oh, these years have been so trying_  
_I don't know if I can use them  
Help me get down  
I can make it, help me get down  
Help me get down  
I can make it, help me get down  
If I only knew the answer  
If I change my way of living  
And if I pave my streets with good times  
Will the mountain keep on giving?_

* * *

If you haven't realized, the title, the title of the chapter and the end lyrics all belong to The Killers.

I'd love some feed back~ It's always appreciated. Especially on boring, intro chapters like this. I know this is a bit slow of a start, but... it just seemed like the _right _place to start for Dis.

Thanks so much in advance!

(By the way, don't expect updates too often, since starting the first of July I'll be in Europe for three weeks!)

**~T.P.T.**


	2. The Way It Was

I probably should have waited a little longer to post the second chapter... but hey, the muse is here. Might as well get one more chapter out while I can, eh?

I got a follow... that's something...

~T.P.T.

* * *

**Smile Like You Mean It**

The Tragic Tale of Dis

Chapter Two;; _The Way It Was_

There was a time when I was happy. I was content. There wasn't so much death in my narrow view of the world. I was never alone, I never cried- unless, of course, my mother got cross with me. But even then, all was forgiven and soon forgotten. We were happy together.

I was the third born of my father Thrain II and mother Uta- two brothers came before me. Thorin II looked like father and papa with his dark hair and big blue eyes, but brother Frerin had dark red hair like mother. We played together often since there were few dwarf children to keep us company. At times I wish there had been other children; the gap between my brothers and I was rather large (Thorin fourteen and Frerin nine when I was born), and they often left me to my own devices when they wanted to go learn how to fight with my father.

This made me very attached to my mother. Whenever the boys were off, it was she who would play with me. Few people saw the true side of my mother. As the Princess she was very solemn and distant, but with her children she was compassionate, playful. I loved her very much.

**( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )**

With a sniff, I wiped away the snot tickling at my lip with a dirty little hand. I was only five or six years old and sat on my mothers lap.

"What did Thorin do this time?" My mother cooed softly in my ear, her hand running delicately through my dark hair as she began to braid.

"They told me I couldn't learn 'ta fight because I was a girl." I hiccuped, my eyelids puffed with water.

"But they're right, Dis. You will be a grown lady one day with a family of your own. You can't be off fighting away from your little ones." My mother murmured, speaking from her own experience.

"I don't want to have babies." I grumbled angrily, "I just want to play with Thory and Frery."

I felt my mothers warm arms encircle me in a hug as she pulled me closer to her chest.

"You're one of those, are you?" A light laugh shook her stomach, "I was just like you, Dis. I didn't want to have children when I was older."

I turned my head slightly, still snug in my mothers arms.

"Really?" I had never thought that I wasn't the only Dwarf girl who wanted to be like the boys and learn to fight.

"Oh yes. But I'm glad I did." A smile formed on her face, her large cheeks a bright pink, "I was blessed with you and your brothers. You three are the most important things in my life."

I smudged the last tear away, smiling as well.

My mother always knew how to make me smile.

**( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )**

"I can fight too, see?" No matter my mothers words, I still wanted to know how to fight. I often stole away when no one was watching and went to the sparring rink very high in our mountain- from its' balcony, Dale could be seen, as well as Mirkwood and the Long Lake. The view was very delightful during the sunrise.

Both Thorin and Frerin looked a little amused as I stood before them with a dull sparring blade held aloft. Their own blades rested at their sides- however, they were very sharp, both having just recently earned them from our grandfather.

Thorin began to laugh heartily, but Frerin's face revealed exhaustion.

"Dis, you're not allowed to be up here. What will mother say?" He began to reach for my sword as he spoke, his blue-green eyes never leaving mine.

With a swing, I lunged at his hand with the sword, barely missing his index finger. He jumped backwards, drawing his own sword in alarm.

Thorin was still laughing, and hadn't noticed what I had done yet, so with as much strength as I could muster, I swung the flat end of the sword down at the back of his calf. Already unbalanced, the young Dwarf fell to the stone, a roar of surprise escaping his throat.

"I told you! I've been practicing." I told them haughtily as they exchanged rather wide eyed looks.

Instantaneously, both Dwarves dropped their swords and lunged for me, battle howls echoing in my ears.

With a screech of delight, and slight fear, I felt my sword slip from my fingers and clang on the floor as I turned and began to run for the stairs. My older brothers, however, were much faster.

"Look at her." Thorin said as he held me in his arms, my feet kicking from a couple feet above the ground, "The little sneak."

"Eight and she's already as cocky as you, Thorin!" Frerin laughed as he ruffled my braids.

"Let me go!" I flailed my arms in all directions as I searched for some way to break free of my brothers.

If only we could have stayed like that forever.

**( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )**

"Papa, what was grandmother like?" I sat on the stairs of the throne room, my grandfather leisurely sitting above me in his stone seat. The Arkenstone shone bright above his crown.

"She was beautiful Dis." He said after a moment, his voice rather strained. His wife, the Queen of our people, died shortly before Thorin had been born from a sickness no doctor could heal, "She wanted a daughter very much."

"Why didn't you and grandmother have more children after father?" I inquired, my fingers playing with the hem of my white dress.

"Having your father made Ceitidh very sick, so we decided not to." He sighed.

"Oh..." I mumbled. I could tell my questions were upsetting my grandfather, "Do you think she would have liked me?"

His big blue eyes lightened at this. He even smiled under his whitening beard.

"Oh yes, very much." He leaned out of his seat, hands on his knees, "She would have spoiled you rotten! Did you know before she died, she wanted Thorin to be a girl?"

"Really?" I laughed, imagining an older sister in place of brother, "Thorina!"

Great laughter erupted from my grandfathers mouth. After a while he leaned back, holding his stomach as the laughter subsided. My own stomach ached.

"Now that would have been an interesting name." He chuckled, "I think she would have liked it, too."

"I wish I could have known her." I said sadly, coming to stand in front of my grandfather.

"Oh, now don't say that. You two are very much alike, you know? Almost the spitting image as well." My grandfathers hands enveloped mine, holding them tightly.

Knowing about my grandmother made me aim to be just like her one day. Even though I knew her the least, I wanted to make her proud to call me granddaughter as she watched over me.

* * *

_If I go on with you by my side  
Can it be the way it was?  
When we met did you forget about those golden eyes?_

All of our plans have fallen through  
Sometimes a dream don't come true

* * *

All rights to Tolkien, Jackson and The Killers.

Just a series of short moments in her life to settle some relationships.

Comments and critique welcomed!

**~T.P.T.**


	3. Here With Me

I'm very at war with myself, friends. I had planned on keeping this story rather 50/50- some following the book, some following the movie...

Since Smaug arrives in this chapter, I planned on introducing_ older_ Balin since, ya know, he shows up in the movie...

Balin was born in 2763 T.A.

Smaug overtook Erabor in 2770 T.A.

Balin was seven.

This is a problem... Oh Peter... why do you give us such amazing scenes in the movie that aren't possible? Could you stop? Kthnxbye.

*Sigh*

Alright, Tolkien. I'll follow your lead this time.

*Daggers at Jackson*  
**~T.P.T.**

* * *

**Smile Like You Mean It**

The Tragic Tale of Dis

Chapter Three;; _Here With Me_

This day was different from the second I awoke. The trees along Erabor creaked as though a great weight had fallen upon them. The air was thick with anticipation, though I knew not why. A shiver worked its' way down my neck as I pulled the covers up to my already slightly stubbly chin. The sun was in the sky, but some unseen omen was keeping me safe under the covers.

I sat there like that for a good long while, not thinking of anything particular. Even if I had gotten up, there'd be nothing to do. Thorin and Frerin were already twenty four and nineteen, respectfully, and had long given up on taking me with them to train. I was only ten and couldn't battle nearly as well as they could, and mother would only scold me if I bothered them.

My eyes felt heavy as I began to drift back to sleep, burying myself deeper into the cushions. Despite getting plenty of sleep the night before, my bed was far too welcoming to resist.

I don't know how long I slept after that- it could have been a few minutes or even a couple of hours, but the resonating echo of a familiar voice pulled me out of my slumber.

"Dragon!"

I sat up almost instantly, all traces of exhaustion gone. My heart began to pound with an unknown fear, I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. Every Dwarf, old and young, knew what that call meant. But I sat there dumb founded, too shocked to know what to do.

A roar reverberated through my bones and shook all of Erabor, down to its' roots.

With a whimper, I jumped from my bed and raced across my room, my bare feet slapping along the stone floor. I grabbed a small jacket and threw it over my nightdress as I hastened out of the door.

Dwarves of all shapes and sizes ran to and fro, grabbing their possessions, making sure their friends and family were out or escaping. From where the mass of Dwarves was heading, it looked like the front gate was still in tact.

I didn't wait one second as I hurried down the polished steps, stubbing my toes on the backs of boots and nearly falling flat on my face. Unfortunately, by the time I made it to the bottom of the steps, the flow had all but stopped, and hundreds of taller bodies, both from behind and in front, shoved me around like a small fish in a ferocious river. I wasn't able to move forward- no one was -so we all stood there, anxiously waiting, talking quietly to loved ones, fidgeting with jewelry.

My body went rigid as I felt at my neck.

I'd forgotten it.

In a whirl I sprang around, pushing at coats and skirts that blocked my path as I raced back up the steps. I winced painfully as I fell out of the throng of Dwarves, my shins meeting the sharp angle of the steps. After a quick pat on my shins to subdue the throbbing, I hobbled painfully up the remaining black marbled steps and back down the hall toward my room. I hadn't bothered closing the door on my way out, so I quickly made it in, grabbed the necklace that sat on my bedside table and was out in mere seconds. With a nagging feeling hanging on my conscious, I hurried into Frerin's room and then Thorin's to make sure they'd both escaped.

"Idiot." I mumbled as I rushed out of Thorin's bedroom. It had been his voice that awoke me, of course he wasn't in his room.

As I hurried down the hall yet again, I fastened the gold and pearl necklace around my neck, a few long black hairs getting caught in the hook. I yanked them out, hardly concerned with them as I rushed back down the stairs. The entire place was deserted, along with the Arkenstone that had previously rested atop my grandfather's throne. Hope surged through me as I realized my grandfather might be alive.

When at last I reached the last corridor leading to the front gate, I picked up my pace, running at full speed to freedom- to my mother, father, grandfather and brothers who were all waiting for me -despite the growing ache in my shins.

A looming shadow fell across the entire front gate, making my gut wrench in fear. The shadow only lasted for a seconds before it was replaced with a bright orange glow that was quickly approaching me.

The hot wind was knocked out of my lungs as something, or someone, hit me from the side. We crashed behind one of the tall pillars, the wall of fire barely missing us.

A large steady hand was placed over my mouth as a scream worked it's way up and out of my throat, completely against my will. As the tears of pain streamed down my cheeks and to his hand, I realized we hadn't made it out of the way of the flames, or at least the right sleeve of my jacket hadn't, and it was burning brightly, searing my whole upper arm in white pain. Whimpers accompanied the scream as whomever had saved me began to beat the flame out with his own jacket.

My head rolled from the pain, hardly able to keep conscious. I stared up at my savior as he removed his hand from my mouth. It was Thorin. My dark haired brother was already covered in ash, and his clothes looked no better than mine.

It was in that brief moment before I drifted into darkness that I noticed my brother, the rock of our family, the warrior, was crying. I could see him speaking, he was saying something to me I couldn't understand. No, I couldn't hear. He began to shake me rather violently, and as hard as I tried to keep my eyes open, they shut.

* * *

A scream rang from my throat, making my head pound in the process. I didn't dare open my eyes as I laid there. My back was against something hard, and I think I was laying down. The back of my throat was dry, and it felt as though I'd swallowed glass. The upper right side of my body felt inflamed, but a cold sweat sat on my brow. I couldn't move, my body ached. My shins stung still. Is this what it felt like to be dead?

I opened my blue eyes tentatively, awaiting the flames of the dragon or worse, but was pleasantly surprised to find a couple of kind blue-green eyes and a scruffy reddish beard.

"Frerin!" I cried, tears at once streaming down to tickle my ears. I tried to sit up, but a fiery pain shot through my body before I could, "Frerin, save me, the dragon-!"

"You're alright, Dissie." The my older brother said softly, holding his hand against my uninjured shoulder to keep me down, "You're safe."

I laid there silently, glancing around as I tried to asses where I was. This was difficult seeing as there wasn't anything around- mountains, a river, hard stone which we both sat on and hundreds of Dwarves. I could see them for miles. As I searched for familiar faces, I noticed there were also men and women whom I guessed were from the city of Dale.

The dragon must have destroyed it all.

I shifted uncomfortably as I tried to look around. Erabor was far away. Further than I had ever ventured from the mountain.

A spike of pain in my right shoulder stopped my look around. It was then I remember my injury.

Slowly, I rolled my eyes to glance down at my shoulder. Bile rose in my throat as I stared down at my bloodied appendage. Burns littered it from mid-forearm all the way up to my shoulder. I gagged and quickly looked away to keep from emptying my stomach. Fortunately it was already empty.

"Frerin." My voice and body shook. It was cold out despite my growing temperature, and both my arms, shoulders, neck an collar bone were uncovered- the rest was covered by my underwear and singed jacket, "How long have I been... out?"

"A couple of days." He sniffed, wiping his sleeve across his eyes and nose- they both watered, "Thorin and I have been moving you on this stretcher."

Sure enough, I was on top of a thick piece of fabric between two long poles.

"And where are we going?" I winced as Frerin applied a balm to my arm- he must have been dressing my wound while I was unconscious.

"To Uncle Grór in the Iron Hills." Frerin's eyes still watered and although I could tell he was trying to hold it in, his voice quavered.

"Frerin?" I asked softly, wiping away a couple of his tears with my left thumb. My brother quickly batted my hand away, finished wrapping my arm in a bandage and stomped off, viciously rubbing at his eyes.

After a few moments, I grabbed the dirty cloak my brother had left at my side and slowly sat up.

My head swam, my eyes lost focus. I leaned my head down between my knees to keep from falling over. When I could see clearly once again, I wrapped the cloak around my torso and good shoulder.

I looked round once more, seeing small families huddled together, holding each other close. Not far off I could see one of the young Dwarflings I often played with- his name was Balin and it looked like both his mother and father escaped unharmed.

Fear struck my heart as I looked for my own family. Frerin looked fine, and he had mentioned Thorin, but where were my mother, father and grandfather? I touched the necklace at the base of my neck for comfort.

_'Keep them safe, grandmother.'_

"Thorin, don't. Thorin!" Frerin's voice pulled me back to the real world. I spotted both Thorin and Frerin making their was hastily towards me. Frerin looked concerned but Thorin... I had never seen his face more livid.

"What have you done?!" He roared, grabbing my injured arm once he was in range and yanking me up to my feet with one arm. I cried out as searing pain raced up my shoulder, but I didn't resist. Tears threatened to spill once more as I held the cloak tightly with my good hand. With blurry eyes, I stared my brother, balancing precariously on my toes as Thorin held me up, "Why did you go back?"

"G-go back?" I choked, momentarily confused.

"I saw you go back upstairs!" He insisted, his voice growing louder with each word. He squeezed my shoulder and I let out another yelp of pain, "Why?"

"I couldn't-" I gasped, trying to find the words, the breath. My head was extremely light again, "I couldn't leave... grandmother behind."

The index finger of my good hand brushed at the pearls around my neck.

A sickening laugh escaped my brothers lips as he let me fall back to the stone with a grunt, my shins crying out as they landed on the edge of my brothers boots.

"You sacrificed the life of our mother for our grandmothers necklace?"

Those words fell on my ears and the world stopped. All talking, all gasps of shock from on lookers, everything. I couldn't breathe.

I held the pain and tears back, shaking my head back and forth.

My brother was lying.

I stared up into his icy blue eyes that refused to shed a tear. I never took my eyes from his as he knelt down and roughly grabbed my chin. He began to speak, but like before, I could only see his mouth move. My stomach clenched, my vision faded in and out, I lost all words that poured from my brothers mouth, my lungs screamed for air.

"-Do you hear me? We both saw you turn around and run up the stairs. _She_went looking for you! I found you, but _she_? _She didn't make it_!" I caught the last of his words as I finally took in a deep breath, only to let it back out with a scream. My body convulsed as I tried to stand, to run back and find her, but my brothers' firm grip held me anchored to the spot.

"Thorin, let me go!" I cried, hot tears dripping from my chin to the stone, "I have to get her, I have to bring her back! Mother!" I lost my breath and began to mouth the words, struggling against my brothers' strength.

"She's not coming back!" His hand left my chin and once again wrapped around my injured arm, squeezing till my throat ached from the screaming.

I don't know how long it took, but Frerin and another boy his age finally pried my brother off of me and held him back long enough for him to lose interest and grumble off.

I fell back, unable to hold myself up any longer. Instead of stone, my head found a soft lap to lay on. I stared up into the eyes of a foreign Dwarf. She was very pretty with blonde hair, hazel eyes and a small smile.

"It's alright, Dis. We'll keep you company. That boy-" She glanced up to the young boy who had helped get Thorin away from me- he too was blonde with brown eyes- "is my brother, Airili, and my name is Jutta. We'll watch over you."

Tears seeped into her beautiful magenta skirt as I buried my head in her lap, on the verge of falling unconscious.

"Jutta..." I whispered to her, "Just like my mothers name-" Another wave of hot tears appeared "-Uta."

* * *

_Wheels are turning  
I remember when you were mine  
Now just to reach you  
Baby, I'd stand in line_

_Don't want your picture  
On my cell phone  
I want you here with me  
I don't want your memory  
In my head now  
I want you here with me_

* * *

Well... I hope that was worth the wait...

Comments and critique greatly wanted!

And remember... All credit goes to Tolkien for the wonderful characters, Jackson for the incredible visuals and The Killers for the fantastic songs!

**~T.P.T.**


	4. I Feel It In My Bones

I've gotten to that point where I'm desperate for feedback. Come on, you don't even have to say that it's good! Just give me an honest opinion and I'll leave all of you alone.

I can't tell if people are just looking for sappy love stories, or if my writing really sucks.

Review and tell me!

~T.P.T.

* * *

**Smile Like You Mean It**

The Tragic Tale of Dis

Chapter Four;; _I Feel It In My Bones__  
_

It was amazing so many Dwarves survived Smaug's attack on Erabor. My eyes hadn't deceived me when I saw hundreds of Dwarves travelling to the Iron Hills with us. The road was cold and treacherous, but I had been unconscious for most of it.

We had been closer than I guessed when I first awoke and Thorin attacked me, which would explain Airili and Jutta's appearance. My father and grandfather scouted ahead of our group, sending food and comfort from King Grór's people- most of whom had close family living in Erabor. Jutta and Airili found us with their father and uncle, who provided me with medicine and my brothers with food.

Jutta kept true to her word, and never took her eyes off of me on the journey back.

But that was twenty years ago. My mental and physical wounds had healed, but both left very visible scars. The skin on my right arm took many months to heal completely, and even now the skin was much lighter than the rest of my body, and was extremely sensitive.

Thorin's attitude toward me worsened steadily our first few years in the Iron Hills, and as much as I wanted to apologize, I couldn't. _He _couldn't put the blame of our mothers' death entirely on my shoulders.

Even the thought of my mothers' death left me breathless. I'd had many nightmares of her burning in Smaug's flames after we'd escaped to the Iron Hills, and no matter what I did, I'd see her die right before me- over and over. As much as I tried to hide my nightmares from the people I loved, I knew they worried for me. I might have been a very open, friendly Dwarfling back at Erabor, but those days had passed. I became a loner, surrounded, as I was, by friends. It took me many years to forgive myself, and my brother, but by then both Frerin and Thorin had left the Iron Hills to find our grandfather and father. Last I heard, they'd made a settlement far over the Misty Mountains, in the heart of Dunland. And as much as I wished to see my brother, grandfather and father again, I couldn't bring myself to face Thorin. It had taken me this long to be happy, and I wasn't ready tear the stitches of old wounds.

It had been nineteen years since I last saw my father and grandfather, and fifteen since Frerin and Thorin left to join them. Since I showed no signs of joining my immediate family, I was left in the care of my great uncle, King Grór, and his son Náin. Náin's wife, Forba, was very kind, but preferred to gush over her son, Dáin, rather than watch over me. I had no problem with this, and instead spent most of my time with Airili, Jutta, Balin, and his new brother Dwalin, as well as young Dáin and a friend of his, Liadan, who was also a Dwarf-girl. Our odd-ball group had an age span that ranged from twenty five to three, which often made for an odd site- the seven of us trampling around the Iron Hills in search of an adventure. More than often I was left with baby Dwalin as the others' disappeared to cause mischief.

But now, as I reached age thirty, Dwalin- who had grown into a strong fellow of eighteen -no longer required a baby sitter, and the games and trouble we got ourselves into was far behind us as most of us stood on the threshold of adulthood. Young Airili, who was thirty seven, had his own school house where he taught Dwarves of all ages how to use a bow and arrow. While it was not customary for Dwarves to use such weaponry, over the years arrows became very useful in orc battles, and bows became the most sought after weapon for some Dwarf warriors. Airili, though not a warrior of great legend, could use the bow and arrow skillfully, and had been asked many a time to teach others.

Balin and Dwalin left not long after Dwalin became eighteen to join their father, Fundin, in the lands of Dunland with my grandfather. I knew little of what they had planned as little to no word reached my ears.

Dáin was hardly seen any more, as the young twenty three year old was being taught how to rule by his grandfather. When we did see him, however, he often spoke most animatedly of the battle training he was receiving.

As for Jutta, Liadan and I, we all worked in the same clothing store under Madam Morag, a Dwarf woman with an iron fist and hooked nose. Her gray beard trailed all the way down to the floor and was often trampled on by the three of us, much to her displeasure. The old Dwarf could be cruel at times, but I could tell she cared for us. Each of the dresses we wore were given to us completely free of charge by Madam Morag after our fifth year of working for her.

"Dis?"

I glanced up from my needle to find both Jutta and Liadan staring at me curiously.

Jutta's beard had grown in very quickly since I first met her, and half of her long blonde locks had been braided and curled on the sides of her head, while the other curly half rested down her back. Liadan, on the other hand, was very dark skinned for a Dwarf, with bright green eyes and two separate hair colors- some of it was black while the rest was dark brown. All of her unusual hair was braided very finely on the top of her head, which all split into three separate braids that rested on her back and shoulders. Both were very beautiful in comparison to me.

"What?" I mumbled, stopping my work.

"You've been... sitting there, Dis. You haven't been working." Liadan told me, concerned weighing her brown down.

I looked down and, sure enough, the dress I was working on hadn't changed since I sat down to work on in. Liadan and Jutta were almost finished with their portions.

"Right." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus, "I'm just... distracted."

"I'll say." Jutta laughed halfheartedly, setting her own dress aside, "Are you wondering about your brothers?"

"Yes..." I murmured, unable to meet her gaze. This wasn't the first time we had this conversation had started, and it was not to be the last, of that I was sure, "I wish they would just send me some letter or sign. For all I know, they could be dead."

"Don't say that." Liadan scolded with a huff, "We'd know if that happened. Don't wish bad luck on them."

"I don't, it's just... I feel uneasy. Sick." I searched for the right words, "I feel it in my bones."

"You're just worrying yourself, Dis." Jutta reassured, her warm hand covering mine comfortingly.

"Less talk, more sewing girls!" Madam Morag called from the front of the store where dresses hung from the tall ceiling and wooden mannequins modeled our work.

"Old hag." I caught Liadan mutter under her breath as we got back to work. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. Liadan wasn't as accepting of Madam Morag's behavior as Jutta and I were, and she was risking our jobs.

We had only gone back to working for a few moments before the front door bell tinkled, signalling a new customer.

"Welcome to Madam Morag's, how may I-" The old Dwarfs gushing voice paused mid-sentence and was replaced with her old tone, "Oh, it's you. They're in the back."

I glanced over my shoulder as heavy footsteps approached the back room.

Airili stopped at the door way, wearing a number of different, mismatched clothes. A green scarf was wrapped over his head and around his neck to keep out the winter cold and snow. The young Dwarf shook the scarf from his head and hundreds of tiny snowflakes flew to the ground and melted almost on impact.

"Brother." Jutta hadn't even bothered to look up from her work, already accustomed to the sound of her brothers footsteps.

"Good afternoon, Airili." I said with a small smile, setting my dress and tools on an already cluttered table.

"Airili!" Liadan jumped from her stool, dress and all falling to the floor, and skipped over to him, "What brings you here?"

I winched inwardly. Liadan was far too interested in him.

"News." Airili looked a little shocked at her sudden change of behavior. His hazel eyes fell on me, "A group from Dunland as here."

I stood slowly, words falling apart as I tried to form them.

"Dunland?" I paused; had my wish been answered? Were they back?, "Is my father-?"

"I don't know who's here, or if we even know any of them." Airili interrupted with a shake of his head.

I couldn't wait another moment. I pushed my way between Airili and Liadan, an awkward tension falling over me for a brief moment. I walked toward where Madam Morag sat behind the reception desk, fiddling with the dirty end of her long braided beard.

"Madam Morag-" I began, ready to fall to my knees and beg the old woman to let me leave for a few minutes and find some news.

"Just go, lassie." The old Dwarf rolled her brown eyes, a small smirk forming on her wrinkly face, "Business is slow today. All of you youn'uns be off, you hear?" She called the last part into the back.

I knew I should have waited, but I grabbed my cloak, had it tied, pulled the hood over my hair and was out of the door before any of my friends had reached the front room.

I swerved in front of and around merchants and children as I raced through the puzzling streets toward the town center in front of the castle of Grór. Few Dwarves seemed to be interested in the happenings there, or perhaps they just hadn't heard the news.

I wadded through the thick snow, up and and down stairs, seemingly lost in the maze of buildings until at last I reached the center. The Iron Hills center was a large, circular stone courtyard in front of the castle where the king lived, and in the center sat a beautiful fountain of marble and stone, though the water was frozen over from the temperature.

I stood there shivering, looking this way and that for any familiar faces.

"Do you see anyone?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Airili, Jutta and Liadan appeared at my side.

"N-no." I mumbled, my nose stuffed from the cold, "No one- Balin!"

I raced forward into the stone circle, making a beeline straight for the familiar brown head and large nose. Before he could answer, I flung my arms around his ever growing torso and squeezed him tight.

"Augh!" We both stumbled back before he regained his footing, his hands on my shoulders as he pushed my back to get a good look at me, "Dis!"

"Look at you!" I exclaimed, "Your beard!"

It had only been a few months since he and Dwalin left to join their father, but Balin's brown beard had grown considerably since then.

"Dis!"

Before I could react, Dwalin had appeared and lifted me from the ground, having no trouble with my small size.

"Oh Dwalin! Your... your head!" I gasped. What had once been luscious long black locks had been transformed into a Mohawk.

"Do you like it?" The young Dwarf asked, his blue eyes shining happily.

"It's... different!" I chuckled, running my hand through it.

Airili, Jutta and Liadan had gathered around Balin by then and were asking many questions about the rest of the world and what he had seen. I'd have to get a retelling later, because I needed to find my father.

After Dwalin had joined the long separated group, I pushed through the throng of tall Dwarves in search of the wavy black hair of my father. At last I spotted it not far from the fountain. A large smile formed from cheek to cheek as I walked toward my father, hardly able to contain my joy. Nineteen years and I'd finally get to see him again.

Before I could sneak up on him, he turned.

My smile fell into a frown and my stomach knotted. My father didn't stand before me- Thorin did. From behind, the two looked almost indistinguishable.

I met my brothers icy blue gaze calmly, holding back the years of turmoil.

"Thorin." I said smoothly, my hands uneasily picking at my skirt.

"Dis?" Thorin said, a calculating look coming to his eyes. Did he... not recognize me?

"Dis!" Frerin picked me up from behind, holding me aloft for a few seconds before setting me back down. I turned to look at my brother, a laugh forming in my mouth. My brother seemed to hardly age a day since leaving, minus his height and the scruffy red beard that had filled out since fifteen years ago.

I held my brother in a hug for a few moments, my heart beating painfully. I'd missed him so much.

"Where's Airili? I want to see if his beard's bigger than mine!" Frerin looked around anxiously, a mischievous gleam beginning in his eyes. Since the two were only a couple years a part, they often compared beard sizes before Frerin. Fifteen years ago my brother was unbeatable, but now? It might be called a tie.

"Last I saw him he was over by Balin and Dwalin!" I called after him- he hadn't bothered to wait for an answer.

"Dis." My brothers cold voice froze my gut. I turned back to him, keeping a rather blank stare on my face.

"Grandfather's dead."

I felt the cold wind catch in my throat, choking me with the fresh air.

"Dead?" I breathed quietly, loosing the face I had put up against my brother.

"Murdered." Thorin spat, "He went to Moria with Nar. He was beheaded and branded by a pale orc with the name of Azog. Father sent out a request for as many able bodied Dwarves to retake Moria from the scum. That's why we're here."

Most of the words were lost or jumbled in my head as I tried to put the sentence together.

"You're leaving again?" I whispered. Seeing Frerin made me hopeful that they'd stay.

"What? Would you rather have our grandfather die for nothing like our mother?" Thorin said icily.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, I raised my left hand and slapped Thorin. Cold tears stung at my cheeks. This is why I hadn't left.

Shock riddled Thorin face, but it was quickly replaced by rage. His arm reached for me, but was stopped by another hand.

"Thorin." Airili now stood between Thorin and me.

Hot words were exchanged between the two, but I ignored them and instead leaned into my friends' back, dampening his cloak with my tears each passing second. In a few moments, he turned and held his arms around me, his voice whispering soothing words in my ear before Jutta once again received me. I held the tears in as I tore from my friends and went back to the castle. No one hindered me as I flew down the corridors and up the stairs to my room.

My dreams for the next few months were riddled with fire and death. I became too afraid to sleep- I feared the dragons fire would consume me along with my mother next time I slept. Jutta often spent the night next to me in the castle, warding away my fears if I awoke in the middle of the night.

I did not say goodbye to my brothers, or to Nain or Dain, or even Balin and Dwalin. They all left to assist my father the next morning. I would not see most of them for another nine years.

* * *

_I'm sure you've got it all figured out  
Things haven't been easy between me and you  
I guess that there are things that you can't _

* * *

A little bit of a happier chapter, yes? Well.. not the happiest, but happi_er._

Please review! I need to know what people think of this! I don't want to write this story for my own pleasure!

Oh hey, I have a question for you- would you like this upcoming battle to follow the book or the movie? Should Dain steal the spotlight, kill Azog and avenge his father, or should Thorin think he murders Azog? Who do you think deserves the glory more?

**~T.P.T.**


	5. A Matter of Time

I'm a little sad.

I don't mean to whine, but I'm not really writing this story for myself! I'd love some feedback...

Yeah...

**~T.P.T.**

* * *

**Smile Like You Mean It**

The Tragic Tale of Dis

Chapter Five;; _A Matter of Time_

The Iron Hills were left barren when so many left for war with my brothers nine years ago. It was rather lonesome since most Dwarves my age had picked battle over family. But so was the nature of our people- battle was always on the mind. Jutta, Liadan and I still worked for Madam Morag, but the loss of her two sons, Toag and Taran, sent her into a spiraling depression which worsened with each new day. She died a year later. Since she had no living relatives left, she handed the key to Madam Morag's over to me- why me, of all Dwarves, I did not know. I did my best to run it as, hopefully, she saw fit. Our staff had been reduced to two when I took over the front desk, and it was nearly impossible for three to complete the orders needed, let alone two; it was time to find new hands.

Three new Dwarves applied for the job, and all three received one. First was Dwalin and Balin's mother, Lamonte- though growing old, she could still put up a fight, and was stubborn when it came to what she wanted to do. I was glad to have her wisdom- I knew little how to run a business.

Second was a very kind Dwarf by the name of Giama. I knew nothing about her, as she was born and raised else where and had only recently settled in the Iron Hills. But her stitch work was elegant, and she worked hard.

Lastly was Balfur, our little errand boy, who was often out getting material or threads from the market. Since he was still young he only worked from morning to afternoon, but the Dwarfling provided much needed assistance. I'd met his parents, Bombur and Bissula, only once or twice before hand, and they'd obviously raised a good son.

Unlike Thorin, Frerin, Dain, Dwalin, Balin, and other Dwarves his age, Airili did not venture over the Misty Mountains to assist my father. He was no warrior, and that he knew. Instead, he continued with his archery school. He'd even given me a couple of lessons when I wasn't busy at Madam Morag's. Unfortunately, I'm no longer allowed lessons, as I nearly stuck an arrow right through old farmer Piran's prized milk cow.

But work continued and my friends dealt with the same sadness I did. As I had lost my grandfather to orcs, Airili and Jutta lost their uncle and Liadan her father. Sadness was not unusual in my shop, but with friendship we coped.

"Come now, Giama. Tell us about this dashing young Dwarf you met!" I overheard Lamonte say from the back room.

I tiptoed to the back, standing just outside the door as Giama began to speak.

"He.. he was short." She began in her thick, foreign accent, "Very rough-" She grunted and imitated him to the best of her abilities, "Very kind. Warrior."

"What did he look like?" Liadan pipped in, looking rather bored with her work.

"Wide. Big nose. Big forehead. Red beard. Ax-" Here she motioned to her back, "Short." She held her hand horizontally a few inches down her forehead.

"She wouldn't be talking about _Gloin _would she?" I chuckled from the door, causing Giama and Liadan to jump in their seats. There were few Firebeards among our people in the Iron Hills.

"Gloin his... name?" Giama looked confused.

"My nephew?" Lamonte sounded rather surprised, "I said dashing, Giama, not putrid."

"Sure sounds like him, doesn't it?" Jutta laughed from the corner, "We'll have to see when they come back-"

"If they come back..." Liadan muttered, eyes down as she sewed a shirt. Silence filled the room as the rest stopped working.

"Stop talking like that." I shot back with a glare, "We have to keep hoping. Hope is all we have left."

I left the room in a hurry to get away from Liadan, Jutta not too far behind me.

"I wish she wouldn't open her mouth." I growled under my breath to my friend, my fingers absentmindedly pulling my hair as I sat down in my seat, "Especially in front Lamonte. Her husband and sons are out there fighting! That's the last thing she wants so hear."

"Liadan just hasn't gotten over her fathers' death-" Jutta started to explain, fixing a mess of papers on the front desk.

"She's not the only one who's lost someone." I rebutted, my frustration growing. Liadan was too self-centered, "Your uncle, my grandfather..." I trailed off, not able to finish the sentence I began.

"Everyone copes with pain differently, Dissie." Jutta ran her fingers through my hair gently before returning to the back.

I rubbed my sleeves as a wave of goose flesh over came me. The feeling was all too familiar. I worried for my brothers and father, no matter their strength or talent with an ax. I worried about my cousins, about Balin, Dwalin and Fundin. I worried about them all. Our people didn't need any more death and destruction. Not after Erabor. Not after my mother-

I wrapped myself in a shawl, trying to keep the cold out of my bones. That's what made me so uncomfortable in the Iron Hills- it was always snowing, from summer to spring. There was hardly a sunny day, and more often than not, I was snowed in. Perhaps after this war we could find somewhere warmer to live.

The all too familiar tinkling drifted to my ears and I lifted my eyes to find not only Airili, but Thorin, Balin and Dwalin walking into my shop.

My shouts of happiness caught in my throat as I stumbled around the counter and flung myself at my brother and friends. I reached Balin first and pulled him into a hug. He held me for a while, the same old Dwarf who had a smile for everyone. As I moved on to Dwalin, I could feel the strength and solitude radiating off of him. Looking up at him, it occurred to me that this Dwarf who I'd held as a baby had fought in battles, had seen blood and murder. The lines around his eyes were testimony for that, and instead of a hug, I ruffled his Mohawk, which earned me a glower with a smile hidden behind it.

And lastly, I looked up at Thorin, a sigh on my lips. At one time I told myself I hated my brother, and I was sure he hated me. But looking into those sad, glassy eyes told me it was all a lie. I reached toward my snow covered brother and was surprised to find him holding me tightly a second later, leaning over as though a great burden held him down.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered in my ear. I thought he was apologizing for our past, for what he'd done to me, for how I'd acted to him.

"I'm sorry, too." I told him back, finding warmth in the comfort.

"Ma!" I pulled away to find Lamonte holding her sons close, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. I'd never seen those two boys more happy then when they were in their mother's arms.

"Oh my boys..." I could hear her whisper to them, over and over.

Liadan had pushed her way through the reunion and out the door before I could say another word. I felt a pang of guilt, watching her go. Jutta appeared not far behind.

"Father?" She questioned Airili, worry eating at her eyes.

"At home with mother." Airili smiled, grabbing his sisters coat on the hook and tossing it to her. A beautiful grin lit up her face as she ran past us and out the door.

Our hope had paid off, and the rooms temperature seemed to raise as the smiles grew wider and wider. It was only a matter of time until they became frowns.

"Frerin!" I sucked in a gasp of air, shaking my head. How could I forget Frerin? I laughed to myself, "He must be lost in town. His sense of direction hasn't gotten better, has it Thorin?"

My brother did not smile, nor laugh. His sad eyes stayed fixed on me, staring as far into me as he could reach, and I found myself unable to look away.

"Thorin?"

"Frerin is dead." He said softly, his blue gray eyes leaving mine to stare into the wooden planks under our feet. He looked ashamed, "He fell in the Battle of Azanulbizar... I'm sorry, Dis. I-... I couldn't protect him."

I could feel my face move as I tried to find the words to say. I blinked, I shook my head, unable to comprehend.

"No." I laughed lightly, "He put you up to this. To think you, of all Dwarves, would go along with this!" My voice went up a few octaves with each word, "Alright, Frerin! Very funny!" I called, all eyes in the room focusing on me, "You know I don't like these games, Frerin!" I felt my chin begin to shake violently as I tried to keep everything in. My nose and eyes watered from the force of keeping my emotions bottles up. "Frerin..." Within a matter of seconds, my cheeks and neck were drenched from tears. My lips were salty as I tried to lick them away.

"Dis..." Thorin whispered, still unable to look me in the eyes.

"Tell me you're lying, Thorin!" I took his bearded chin in my hand and forced him to look at me, "Tell me, please!"

And as he looked back in my eyes, I could see every ounce of remorse and sadness disappear, only to be replaced with that familiar mask he wore.

"I'm not lying, Dis." He said, every previous emotion gone. He grabbed my hand and took it away from his face, his eyes never leaving mine, "He's gone."

I tried to breathe as my body convulsed with sobs. Thorin tried to hand me off to Airili- why would a brother want to comfort his crying sister?

"Get away from me!" I screamed, pushing both Dwarves away as I joggled to and out the door. A blizzard was starting, but I ignored it and pushed through the slush of mud and water. Snow flakes stuck to my damp cheeks, but I let them melt there. All around me I could hear the screams of women being told their husband and brothers were dead, children being told they'll never even meet their fathers. Even behind me through the open door I could hear Balin and Dwalin comforting their mother. Fundin had been lost to them. Toag and Taran had long been slain. Jutta's uncle Nilide and Liadan's father Drostan probably sat rotting in their graves as I sat in the snow and cried for Frerin.

"Was it not enough?" I screamed to the blizzard, my breath misting from my mouth and disappearing into the storm, "Were my mother and grandfather not enough? Did you need to take Frerin too, Mahal?!" I could feel my voice becoming more and more hoarse each second that passed as I screamed up to our creator.

I don't know how long I sat there in the snow. I had hoped that Mahal might take the snow and cover me in it to make me a stone so I did not feel pain. When I finally gave in to my exhaustion, I was sure I was going to die out in the snow.

I was very surprised to wake up laying in front of a crackling fire, a blanket covering me.

I stayed very still as I looked around what little I could see of the room without lifting my head. I shivered despite the warmth surrounding me.

When it appeared I was alone, I pushed myself up from the wooden floor with stiff muscles. The small room had a fire place, a small cushioned couch, one door at the far end of the room, two windows that were blurred with ice and snow, a few book shelves and a couple of pots and pans hanging by the fire.

My shawl hung on a rack near the fire, no doubt nearly dry. Had I been... kidnapped?

My heart began to beat very fast as I searched around for some sort of weapon or way out. I grabbed the closest frying plan and held the heavy object in my hands. This would have to do.

I froze as I heard footsteps coming close to the door. It sounded like they were coming up stairs, meaning this was most like a second story room- the windows were out question. In a flash I tossed the frying pan on the couch, grabbed my shawl from the rack and the pillows from the couch, stuffed them under the blanket I had previously been under, once more grabbed the frying pan and retreated to the wall next to the door.

I held my breath as the wooden door swung slowly open and stopped mere inches from my face with a creak. I waited for my kidnapper to walk a few paces before I slowly sidestepped from behind the door. Whoever he was, he had his blonde hair up in a pony tail, was rather stout for a Dwarf, wore a long sleeved maroon shirt, dark pants and large black boots. I followed a few paces behind, making my footsteps as silent as possible. I had considered just running out the door and down the stairs, but what if he followed me? I had to make sure he wouldn't.

Just as he began to reach for the blanket, I brought the frying pan up, praying to Mahal to give me strength.

"Dis?" The Dwarf muttered, when he'd lifted the sheet off the pillows and shawl.

"Airili!" I breathed, the pan falling to the ground with a sharp clang as I hugged him around the middle.

He tried to twist himself around at the sound of the pan, but was unable to as I held him there, "What are you doing?"

"I thought I'd been kidnapped." I gasped, trying to regain my breath. My throat was unbelievably dry.

"Kidnapped?" Airili sounded incredulous as he finally pulled himself from me, his fingers wrapping around my upper arms as he steadied my wobbly legs, "...Kidnapped?"

"I don't know what I was thinking!" I cried out, getting free of his grip and dropping to the couch with an exasperated huff, "One second I'm praying to Mahal to kill me, and the next I'm here! What was I supposed to think?!"

"Kill you?" Airili asked as he crouched in front of me, his large hands resting on my knees, "Why would you wish for something like that?"

"I know it's foolish, I just..." I stopped in my words, looking past his hazel eyes and into the fire, "I waited _years_ to see my brother... Years! I never got to say good bye to him. To any of them, Airili. And my mother-" I couldn't continue, and instead, leaned my forehead against his and cried. I didn't cry long, but during the time I had, Airili had hardly moved and crouched there, holding my hands until I had recovered.

"I'm sorry to burden you..." I whispered, a small laugh coming from the back of the throat, "From the first day I met you."

"Dis." I glanced up, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, "You've never been a burden to me."

* * *

_You're looking for a way out_  
_I can feel it_  
_Come on, show me where it hurts_  
_Maybe I can heal it_

_Your feelings are your own_  
_Now you keep 'em under lock and key_  
_You got me drivin' through the streets_  
_For an answer to the mystery_

* * *

Semi-miserable, semi-funny, semi-fluffy. A little bit of everything for everyone.

Read and review...

By the way- Pethor: KILLED YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTER.

Okay, now that that's out of my system, until next time!

(For anyone this may concern- I'm going to Europe from the first of July to the nineteenth... so no updates till afterwards!)

~T.P.T.

P.S. This puts us about one third of the way through this Fanfiction! Woot.


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